


Putty in Your Hand

by verfound



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Floor Sex, Luka Couffaine is a Fucking Idiot, Makeup Sex, Soulmate AU, They do eventually make it to a bed, Wall Sex, angry makeup sex, it's complicated - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Luka hadn’t meant to move quite as fast as they’d been, but when you’d been pining after someone for five years and in love with them your entire life…well, it didn’t really feel all that fast, in the end.  It felt like coming home.  (Continuation of “The Palm of Your Hand.”)
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 8
Kudos: 212





	Putty in Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feminaexlux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feminaexlux/gifts).



> Continuation of [“The Palm of Your Hand”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23797108). It wasn’t supposed to have a sequel, but I had the opening, the morning after scene, and a note about Lani wanting “angry makeup sex” in the doc. As of posting this Lani hasn’t received an Exchange fic, and that’s just No Bueno, and since she’s been asking for this one for a while I didn’t *rush* but I kiiiiinda rushed to get it done for her bc Lani deserves all the love. <3

Marinette had been right: his soulmate was _naughty_.

His eyes flicked up from his guitar at the familiar tingling in his palm. She was sitting with Alya towards the back of their rehearsal space, her eyes locked on him and a wicked smirk curling her lips. Her hand was poised over the other, a sharpie still uncapped in her fingers. He pushed out a steady breath as the song drew to a close and Rose called break. Once Claire was back in her stand and he was actually able to look at his palm, he nearly choked.

_Did you know your stage hair looks just like your sex hair?_

He looked back to her, clenching his hand into a fist. She was grinning at him, but her lower lip had been pulled between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. Beside her, Alya had had no such luck. The reporter had collapsed against the bar, her head thrown back as she howled and her arm clutching her stomach.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the sharpie he’d started carrying in his back pocket since that night a week ago. He scribbled out a quick message before taking the water Ivan offered him.

_you would know, wouldn’t you?_

He watched as she bit down harder on her lip, and for a moment he was lost in a memory of her back arching beneath him, that same lip between her teeth as she tried to keep quiet (even as he whispered in her ear to let him hear her, to sing for him) because her parents were downstairs. The tingling in his palm pulled him from the memory, and he swallowed thickly when he saw the positively _sinful_ look she was giving him. His hand tightened into a fist as soon as he’d read her message.

_Stop giving me that face before I come over there and sit on it._

_(You know your break isn’t that long.)_

If he had known letting Marinette catch him without his gloves would have unleashed five years of built up sexual tension from his spunky little soulmate, he would have ripped the damn things off years ago…

_A week ago, same warehouse, same two dumbasses…_

Luka felt something – Ivan’s drum case, he was pretty sure it was the case – bump into his knees, but he was too distracted by the lips currently teasing his own apart to care much about the damn case. Marinette was in his arms, Marinette was kissing him, _Marinette was pushing him onto the damn case and crawling onto his lap…_ he knew the band was heckling them. He could hear Rose’s squeals and Ivan’s _“Yeah!”_ and his sister’s laughing _“Gross!”_ to the side.

But it all seemed so…woefully unimportant, all things considered. He only pulled away when air became an issue, but then Marinette’s lips were trailing along his jaw and up to his ear and she was biting on his lobe as her hands tangled in his hair. His head was swimming – this couldn’t be happening. How was this even happening? Five minutes ago, Marinette was _Adrien’s soulmate and dating Adrien and one hundred percent off-limits._

…but that was five minutes and a forgotten pair of gloves ago.

He was sort of distracted, but not really, by movement to their side, and he felt his face warming as he watched the others quickly making their escape (once they realized Marinette had no intention of stopping or, y’know, acknowledging the rest of them were even there). Rose had her nose in her mobile, but when she caught him looking she tossed him a wink. A moment later his phone buzzed in his pocket, and it was just enough to make Marinette pull back.

…when she looked at him like that, her eyes heavy and lidded and pupils blown wide with desire and her lips kiss-bruised and just begging him to pull her back against him…

He probably shouldn’t have, except she dove the same time he grabbed and they kind of just…overbalanced. They toppled off the case, falling awkwardly into the small space between the cases and the curtain with his legs sticking up in the air and Marinette smooshed against him. He wasn’t complaining about that either, though, even when her forehead smacked into his chin and they both groaned at the flash of pain.

“We…we should probably continue this elsewhere,” Marinette panted, her hands fisting in his shirt. He tipped her face back up to him.

“You ok?” he asked.

Her smile was worth it.

“You’re my soulmate, Luka Couffaine,” she said, and the kiss she gave him was slower. Somehow less demanding but equally intense, setting his head spinning as his arms pulled her closer. “I’m so much better than ok.”

“I love you,” he said, and he didn’t care if five (…ten) minutes ago they were just friends and she was Adrien’s soulmate and one hundred percent off-limits. He’d been in love with her his entire life, and he’d take every opportunity he had to tell her that. His nose brushed against her temple, his lips dragging along her skin, and she sighed as she burrowed closer to him. “I’ve loved you for so long. I’m so –”

She cut him off with another harsh kiss. She was glaring at him when she pushed him back, and he wasn’t sure if he was dizzy because of all the kissing or the way she’d (he was pretty sure accidentally) smacked his head into the concrete.

“Stop apologizing,” she bit. Her hand lifted his head, smoothing his hair along the bump. “We’ve wasted enough time with _sorry_ and _misunderstandings_. Keep kissing me. Buy me that drink.”

He moaned when she started kissing him again, when she rocked against him and ground her hips into his own. His hands found her waist, sliding back to cup her ass and pull her closer. He had already known they were getting into dangerous makeout territory, but now…

“Ok, screw the drink,” she panted, pressing her face into his neck. She bucked against him, and he chuckled as his hand smoothed over her jeans. “Just take me home.”

His mouth went bone dry at that.

With how she was kissing him, how her hand was drifting lower, how she was still rocking against him…he was pretty sure there was only one thing she could possibly mean by _take me home_.

“Are…are you sure?” he asked, swallowing thickly. And how he didn’t want to think about that. _Take me home_ , like it could be _their_ home instead of his or hers or… “Marinette –”

“I’m still pissed at you, Luka,” she said, nipping at his neck. “But right now I just want you. I want to be with you. I want to get over our bullshit and just screw your brains out. Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you? How long I’ve wanted this? Wanted you?”

He had a pretty good idea. Not as long as _Ma-Ma-Marinette_ and _grooves_ , but definitely long enough to know this wasn’t some random hookup.

…they were soulmates, after all. And friends besides all that. He was pretty sure you couldn’t have some random hookup with someone you were that close to. He couldn’t, at least.

His hands slid up her back, into her hair (when had her pigtails come loose?), and pulled her mouth back to his own. He kicked the drum case back towards the wall, giving his legs more room to spread out, and grunted as they dropped to the floor. She hit him just right, and she gasped into his mouth – then moaned when his tongue chased her, and then he was lost all over again. She was right. They had to get out of here. The others would come to pack up eventually, and the last thing any of them needed was for the band ( _his sister_ ) to catch them both with their pants down.

And he _really_ wanted to get their pants down.

“Ok,” he finally said, pushing her back and making her whine. He shook his head when she pouted at him, smiling as he swiped a thumb along her swollen lips. He had done that. She had let him do that. “Let’s…let’s get you home. And…”

Her hand tugged on his belt, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively. When had she grabbed his belt?

“…yeah,” he said, eyes closing as he took a breath. In, out. Steady. Calm. Ignoring the voice that was so very much like her own, that was Freaking Out and demanding they talk this out and over-analyze every point. He knew they needed to talk. He knew they _would_ talk. But just them, talking didn’t seem as important as the girl still trying to pull his belt off. “Let’s go home.”

– V –

The trip from the warehouse to his flat was all a bit of blur in Luka’s mind. He remembered pulling his phone out to text Juleka and let her know they were leaving, but there had already been a message waiting for him from Rose reminding him that she was leaving with Juleka straight from the bar to attend her grandparent’s fiftieth anniversary party the next day. He had barely told Marinette this before she was hauling him into a cab, and he had barely gotten his address to the driver before she was kissing him again.

He was pretty sure he had gotten her off of him long enough to send Ivan a text asking him to handle their shit and adding the biggest IOU ever. He just hoped Rose and Juleka helped him load their gear into the van before they left.

The ride from the warehouse to his flat wasn’t that long – maybe ten minutes – and most of it had been spent with Marinette cuddled against his side, their hands clasped as she peppered tiny, biting kisses along his neck. If Luka hadn’t been so dazed by it all he might’ve been embarrassed, but their driver was discreet and had let them be. Luka had thrown whatever cash he’d had in his wallet at the poor bastard when they arrived and Marinette had promptly hauled him out of the cab.

The driver had called after them, but she had already fished his keys from his back pocket and was tugging him into the building. Luka was pretty sure he’d grossly overpaid the man.

Marinette knew the way to his flat as well as he did, and this late at night they were the only ones around. So it was easy to let her haul him onto the lift, grateful when she slapped his groping hand away from the buttons and pressed the one for his floor herself. That hand went back to her waist, pulling her back to him as his lips moved along her neck. He loosely held the fingers of her marked hand, his thumb brushing against her palm almost reverently. She shivered against him, which only made him hold her tighter. Kiss her deeper. He was drunk on her, and he never wanted to be sober again.

His hall wasn’t as empty as the lobby had been. One of his neighbors, an older gentleman who lived two doors down, was unlocking his door when they stumbled out of the lift. Marinette shoved him against the wall before she noticed the man, and Luka had been too preoccupied by the way she’d jumped at him, locking her legs around his waist, to pay him much mind until he coughed. Luka, who had been reaching under her to get a better grip before he dropped her, stared stupidly at the smirking man as Marinette continued to attack him. He mouthed a _sorry_ as the man tipped his hat and disappeared into his flat, and Luka groaned as Marinette tried to pull his mouth back to hers.

“M-Marinette,” he gasped, laughing breathlessly, “come on, Mari. We’re almost…just down the hall…”

“Touch me,” she demanded, and he groaned as one of her hands slid down his back to toy with the waistband of his jeans.

“Neighbors,” he groaned, hissing when her fingers slipped beneath his boxers and scratched along his skin.

“Don’t care,” she grumbled, nuzzling her nose against his collarbone.

“You do, too,” he chuckled, squeezing her before he removed his hands from her ass. “C’mon. My flat is just down the hall. Wouldn’t this be more comfortable on a bed?”

He was right, and they both knew it. She sighed and hopped off of him, but he’d barely had a chance to catch his breath before she’d grabbed his hand and started sprinting down the hall, laughing with a giddy sort of abandon. She still had his keys, and as soon as they were inside she was slamming him against the wall again. His breath caught as her hands groped for his belt, her mouth hot and demanding against his own. He reached for the light switch, but her hand caught his and brought it to her chest, lying it flat against her breast.

His brain short-circuited all over again.

“I told you to touch me,” she said. Had she? She had. Back in the hall, when he hadn’t wanted to because of his neighbors. There were no neighbors here, though. There was no one but them, and there wouldn’t be all weekend. So what was stopping him now?

Her breath hitched as he gently squeezed her breast, his hesitant touch turning significantly less so when she pushed her chest into his hand. He chuckled, more than happy to oblige her, and began massaging her in earnest as he leaned in to nip at her ear.

“What if I want to see you, too?” he whispered, running his tongue along the bit of skin below her lobe. “What if I want to watch you squirm?”

Her hand darted out, and the sudden light had him squinting as she pushed him back against the wall. When his eyes had adjusted enough to see her, a wicked grin was curling her lips.

“What if I want to watch _you_ squirm?” she asked. She gave a tug, and he realized her hand was back on his belt. “What if I want to blow you, right here? What if I want to see your face as I make you come? What if I want to suck you so hard you can’t think straight?”

“That won’t be too hard, Mari,” he chuckled, hoping she didn’t notice how strangled he sounded. He tried to distract her from how dizzy that mental image made him by pulling her in for another hungry kiss. “I already can’t think straight. But that does sound amazing.”

He kissed her again, barely aware of her skilled little hands unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and maybe all too aware when his jeans were suddenly around his knees and her palm was against him, the thin fabric of his boxers the only thing separating them. He gasped into her mouth, and she bit at his lip, and that was almost it for him. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder as she continued to rock her hand against his dick. God, he was so hard…

“Also…where the shit did you learn to talk like that?” he chuckled, the sound breathy and broken. He almost sighed in relief as her hand left him, but she was just moving to hook her fingers in the waistband of his boxers. She grinned up at him, and he couldn’t help but grin back. “What happened to my sweet, innocent little Marinette?”

“Her soulmate was a jackass that tried to cut her out of his life,” she quipped. Her words were like a bucket of ice water, an ugly little feeling replacing the desire in his gut. She sank to her knees, taking his boxers and jeans with her, but he couldn’t even focus on how she pressed her cheek to his lower stomach, her mouth a breath away from his raised dick. How her hand had wrapped around him, and that just wasn’t fair. How many times had he fantasized about this moment? About her touching him like this, her skin against his, and now he was too upset to fully enjoy it. His fingers found her hair, and he hissed as she placed a kiss against his base, her nose nuzzling him.

“Marinette…” he tried, but she kissed him again and squeezed. His head fell back against the wall, and he tried to ignore the arousal coursing through him. She was still mad. They needed to talk. As much as he wanted to give in to this – give in to her – they needed to clear things up before…she squeezed him again, and his mind went blank.

…it occurred to him that she pretty much owned his ass. Whatever she wanted, whatever she told him to do, he’d do it. Willingly and happily. As long as it meant he could stay by her side, that he could love her…he was putty the palm of her hands, and he was pretty sure that was the best way to be.

“Stop thinking, Luka,” she said, and he swallowed as he looked down at her. His mind blanked again. That was a sight he would never get tired of: Marinette on her knees, her lust-filled eyes staring up at him, her hand on his dick with her mouth…

“I-isn’t that my line?” he tried to joke, and she smiled before she resumed her stroking.

“Usually,” she hummed. She leaned back, settling on her heels and smiling up at him. “But you were the jerk here. You don’t get to be a gentleman and worship me or whatever it is your artistic soul thinks you’re supposed to do.”

“That doesn’t sound fair,” he murmured, his hand brushing back through her hair. Her free hand came up to grasp his own, pressing their palms together.

“It sounds plenty fair,” she said. “There’ll be time for worshiping later, right? Right now I just…I want you. And maybe I want to hurt you a little. Because you’ve hurt me.”

“Marinette –” he tried again, but she was already shaking her head. Her grip on him tightened, just enough to shut him up.

“…sorry,” she said, stroking him slowly before she pressed a kiss against his shaft – and that just wasn’t fair, because they were actually talking, and he was trying to focus on what she was saying, but there was no way he was going to be able to focus on any of it if she kept doing _that_. “That’s not right. That’s not what I want. _That’s_ not fair.”

“No, it’s…it’s plenty fair,” he choked out, closing his eyes and breathing slowly as she continued to stroke him. “You…you’re right. I’m the asshole. I hurt us both for years because I was stupid. You…you should hurt me back.”

Her hand stopped moving completely, and the sudden stop was enough to bring his attention back to her. His eyes opened, but he almost closed them again when he saw her glaring at him.

“I don’t want either of us to hurt anymore,” she said firmly. She sat up on her knees, pressing her cheek her to his stomach and slipping her hand under his shirt, resting it at the small of his back. She pulled him closer, pausing for a minute to gather her thoughts. She still wasn’t stroking him, and he was grateful for that. He needed to hear whatever she had to say. “I just…I just want to be with you. I want to love you. And I kinda really want to fuck you.”

He choked on a laugh, and she peeked up to grin at him. She pressed a kiss to his shirt, and his breath caught as her hand wrapped around him again.

“And I kinda really want you to fuck me,” she said, tugging on him just hard enough to make his head spin. He was ok with that. He was more than ok with that. She sank back on her heels, but she stayed close. Continued the slow, steady pumps of her fist along his dick. Kept her head against him, pressed another kiss to his base. Just enough to distract him while letting him stay in the moment. “I get it, Luka. Or I think I do. I know you’re a self-sacrificing idiot who just wants the people he loves happy, and if you honestly thought my soulmate wasn’t you…except it _is_ you, and right now I just want you to show me how much you say you love me. Let me show you how much I love you.”

“You have to know I wanted it to be you,” he said, tugging on her hair a little to make her look back up at him. Her eyes narrowed, and he shook his head before she could argue with him again. “I didn’t _cut you out_ , Mari. I probably should have. Would’ve been easier if I had. I honestly…I honestly thought you were still in love with Adrien.”

“I loved Adrien for all of maybe a month,” she tutted. She paused, considering, then shrugged. “Maybe a bit longer. Did you know I used to be a bit of a stalker?”

She said it like a joke, and he had to snort a little at it. _Stalker_ was putting it mildly. She had told him about the stolen phone, and he had seen her planner.

“It didn’t take me long to catch him without his gloves,” she continued, her gaze softening as she stared at the floor between them, her hand stilled again. Her other hand – the one that would be covered in blue lines any time he wrote her – fisted against his back. “To realize he was writing someone and my hand was still _blank_.”

“Marinette, I –” he started to say, but she was pushing herself up and shoving him back into the wall, her mouth back on his as she continued stroking his dick between them. The words scattered, lost as he was in the sensation of her. Her hand found his again, and he sucked in a breath as her thumb pressed against his palm.

“And you…you’re always touching people. Touching me. Even with your gloves. If you had just written me, just once…” she sighed, and he tried to ignore the guilt that was bubbling up in him. She was moving again, peppering open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Her nose nudged the underside of his jaw, and he swallowed as she drug her teeth against his skin. “Did you know you grabbed my hand the first day we met? Do you remember that?”

He did. He had reached for her quite a few times that day: when they’d been chained together below deck, when he’d hidden her from his akumatized mother under his bed, when he’d helped her out of his porthole…he had been drawn to her, even then, and had been unable to stop himself. He remembered his fingertips brushing against her blank palm, wondering…

“If you had just kept writing…if you hadn’t given up on me…” she whimpered, and he tilted her head back to kiss her again.

“I never gave up on _you_ , Marinette,” he said fiercely. He needed her to know that. He needed her to understand. He _had_ given up on his soulmate: the nameless, faceless _someone_ he had never actually met, who had loved someone else that wasn’t him and he had let go because…because he wanted her happy, and he didn’t want to hurt. But Marinette? Once he had actually met her, once she had stumbled and stuttered into his life like the beautiful disaster she was? He had never given up on her. He had stepped back as she pursued who he had thought was her soulmate, who he had thought for so long that she’d wanted, but he had never stopped loving her. He had never stopped hoping.

He knew she didn’t believe him, but there was an important distinction in his mind between the faceless _Soulmate_ he had shared secret messages with for fifteen years and the beautiful, talented, caring _Marinette_ who had become one of his closest friends. He needed her to understand that.

“You gave up on me,” she said, but she sounded more resigned than anything else. That broke his heart more than anything else. He knew she _didn’t_ believe him, even now. That she didn’t understand. “You gave up on me before you ever even knew me.”

…and damn it, that was _enough_. He was pretty sure he actually _growled_ as he grabbed her face and tugged her towards him, kissing her fiercely as he flipped them. She scrambled against him as he pressed her into the wall, and when her hands found his own face he reached down for her ass, picking her up and running his hands along her thighs as she locked her legs around his waist.

“I never gave up on _you_ , Marinette,” he bit, hissing as she pushed against him. His dick was trapped between them, and if he had thought her jerking him off was good…this was a new kind of torture entirely. His lips found her neck, biting as he bucked against her. It wasn’t enough. He needed to show her, to prove to her…and fine. She’d been right. He was pissed, too, and he needed to fuck her as much as his _artistic soul_ needed to worship her. “I gave up on _myself_.”

“B-bullshit!” she gasped, but it cut off in a moan as he thrust against her. He needed her pants off, and he needed them off ten minutes ago. He stepped back from the wall and raised his hold to her waist, intending to drop her back to her feet, but she kept her legs locked around him. He pushed on her thighs, forcing her down, and as soon as she was standing his hands were at her waist. There was a frantic bit of scrabbling, of pushing and pulling: he was trying to kiss her and undress her at the same time, but his pants were still around his ankles and somehow he ended up tripping and…

…they were in a heap in the entryway of his flat. The flat he shared with Juleka and Rose. _And hopefully soon Marinette._ And he knew he should be more aware of that fact, because if Juleka came home…not that she was tonight, but generally speaking, because he was still hoping this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing and there would be many more opportunities for Juleka or Rose to catch them in a compromising situation and…but Marinette had managed to land on top of him, and he was still trying to get her clothes off, and she was still trying to take control of the situation. Because that’s what Marinette did: she made a plan, and she followed through. She was a leader. And when she was fucking pissed about something – like she was now, like he was trying not to be because _they were finally together why did they have to be_ angry _about it_ – she…

…was sucking him off, the fly to her jeans undone and her hand over his own inside her underwear, and he was pretty sure they’d just been fighting about something pretty important a moment ago. But all he was aware of was the warmth of her mouth around him, the slickness of her folds coating his fingers, the fine hair against his wrist. He was so close, and that was…really embarrassing as hell. Marinette wouldn’t be his first partner, even if he had every intention of her being the last. There had been…others. A few. Ok two. He didn’t really remember either of them, and he kind of hated himself for that, but they had both been during low points where he’d been too lonely and too…but he remembered being there, in the moment, with them. Lasting longer than a few sloppy strokes and desperate kisses. But this was Marinette, and Marinette had always been able to completely derail his brain with just a look. His free hand brushed through her hair, and he hissed as she slid off of him with a wet _pop_. The look in her eyes when she peered up at him was dangerous – about as dangerous as the way she licked her lips.

“…I never gave up on you, Marinette,” he whispered, because despite the soup his brain was quickly becoming he knew he needed her to know that. She pressed a kiss to the side of his length, just below the tip, her hand resuming its slow, steady stroking. His eyes closed as a shuddering breath left him. “P-please. Mari…I need you to…ah…I need you to know that. Before…”

“I know,” she said after a moment. She squeezed his hand before slipping it out of her jeans, and then she was sitting beside him. He pushed himself up on his elbows, watching her with hazy eyes. She was kicking her shoes towards the door, sliding her pants down her legs…he was transfixed by the sight of her there, sitting beside him in nothing but lacy pink underwear and a white camisole. He had never thought…well, ok, he’d _thought_. Hoped. Dreamed. But he never dared believe he’d actually get to see her like this. She turned her attention back to him, but she was focusing on his feet instead of…his dick twitched, and she grinned as she glanced up at him. “Patience. I’m coming back to that.”

She ran a finger along his shaft with a giggle, and he groaned as his head fell back. He dropped an arm over his eyes, and she giggled again.

“If I don’t get your pants off, Luka, we’re just going to fall again,” she said, practical as ever. “And besides…a-ha!”

He raised his arm and glanced at her. His pants and shoes had been abandoned with her own, and she was rooting through her purse. He hadn’t even realized she’d taken it off – had forgotten everything about it, honestly, in light of everything else. She was holding up a foil packet and grinning at him, and his eyebrows soared.

“Were you…Marinette, were you planning on jumping me tonight?” he asked, laughing a bit in disbelief.

“…no?” she answered, though it sounded more like a nervous guess. She laughed and crawled back up him, hooking her fingers in his shirt and tugging it off as she went. There was a moment as it passed over his head where he couldn’t see her, but then the shirt was gone and she was kissing him again, her leg hooking over his own as her hand reached back down to stroke him. She had dropped the condom on his stomach, just beside his navel. “I’d hoped, maybe. I always hope.”

“M..Mar…” he stammered, and she shushed him as she brushed her lips against his own.

“I know you take your gloves off when you play,” she whispered. “So…yeah. Maybe I started bringing a condom or two with me to your shows. Because I knew the second I could prove you were an idiot I was jumping your ass.”

His laugh broke off in a strangled moan, her hand squeezing firmly with every stroke. Her mouth left his own, and then she was making her way back down his body, peppering kisses over his chest and stomach and lower. She lingered a moment over his heart, stilling completely with her lips pressed to his skin. He wondered if she could feel the way it was pounding, beating strongly and quickly and all for her. Her tongue swirled in a lazy lick before she continued her progression, and then she was picking up the condom and her mouth was replacing her hand.

“M…Marin…” he choked out, her name lost in another moan as she took him deeper. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know where the hell she had learned to do this. His fingers threaded through her hair, curling around the back of her head and scratching. She hummed, and he moaned again as his hips bucked. She pulled back, dragging her teeth along his sensitive skin, and he cursed as his hand tensed. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was taking everything he had to stay relatively still. To let her take charge, to…he owed her that, right? This was about her getting what she needed. He…

She sat up, kissing his tip as she pulled away, and he watched her as she reached for the condom. He pushed himself back up, wincing as his ass slid from the rug to the hardwood, the sudden shock of cold a jolt to his system. He reached for her, and she paused before she could rip the packet open.

“Are you…are you sure, Marinette?” he panted. Her eyes narrowed in a glare.

“Ask me that one more time, Couffaine, and I’ll show you how _sure_ I am,” she huffed, ripping the packet open. His lips quirked in a smile as she rolled it onto his dick before rising to her knees.

“Looks like you’re gonna show me anyway,” he teased, and she paused with her underwear halfway down her hips. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and he could feel his smile softening. He leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek before gently pulling her towards him for a lingering kiss. “Just…promise me this isn’t gonna be a one-time thing. I can’t…I can’t do this if you’re not gonna be here in the morning.”

…it wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken up alone after…but, to be fair, the first time he had left himself. The second time they’d both agreed it was best she go. And it hadn’t mattered to him before, because he knew nothing would come of the night, and neither had been _her_ , but this time…

Having her, just to lose her or realize she had never wanted this in the first place? That would be worse. That would be so much worse.

“Luka Couffaine,” she said firmly, batting his hands away. She finished removing her underwear and swung a leg over his waist, straddling him, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her bare above him. She cupped his face in her hands, angling to kiss him as she pressed her chest to his own. His arms found her waist, a hand sliding under her shirt and up her back, his fingers picking at the hooks of her bra. That would have to come off, too. Should have been off already. “I want _this_. I want _you_. And if you weren’t such a dumbass I would’ve had you long before now, so just…stop second-guessing my intentions or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. I’m not backing out. I’m not going to screw you and disappear in some twisted revenge plot. Why the hell would I do that? You’re it for me, Luka. Even before I knew...even if you weren’t my soulmate, you’d be it for me. Don’t you realize that? How many times do I have to tell you I love you?”

...to be fair, she hadn’t. Even earlier, it had been more of an observation and less a declaration. Even when he’d said he loved her, she hadn’t exactly answered in an affirmative.

“…just once more,” he said, lightly scratching her back as he pressed a kiss above her heart. He turned his head, resting his ear there and listening to the pounding _thump-thump-thump_ beneath the skin. “Always just once more. Just so I can say I love you back.”

“Luka…” she sighed, and he hummed as he held her there, his head cradled to her chest with her lips pressed against his hair. She brushed her fingers through the blue-black strands, and he basked in the feeling of her, of security and home. He was barely aware of her hand drifting lower, of her body drifting lower, until she grasped him again. His breath left in a hiss, and she was kissing him again as she guided him towards her entrance. “I’m sure. I want this. Do you?”

“Hell, yes,” he choked out, and then he was moaning into her kiss as she sank down on him. She moved slowly, so slowly, gasping as she adjusted to the size of him. It was agonizing, and he had to remind himself…he was pretty sure she’d never done this before. It hadn’t really been any of his business, but he’d never been aware of any boyfriends besides Adrien, and if Adrien hadn’t actually been her boyfriend…the thoughts were chased away as she finally seated herself on his lap, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and head and her face pressed against his…wet shoulder? Was she…

Oh, God. Had he hurt her? Was this awful for her? He hadn’t even moved yet. He had let her take the lead. Was she…

“Marinette?” he croaked, rubbing her back. She was panting, her breath hot and warm against his skin. “Are you…Mari. Talk to me.”

“F-fine…” she choked out. A little noise escaped her, and she rocked just slightly before her arms tightened around his neck. “Oh my God…”

“Marinette, baby,” he called, and he immediately hated it. He’d have to figure out a different endearment for her later. “Mari. God, please don’t cry.”

“I’m good,” she said. “Just…give me a minute.”

They should have waited. He should have prepared her better, but she’d felt so wet, and she’d been so…he hadn’t even thought…

She rocked into him again, slower this time – more fully – and made that noise again. Her mouth moved against him with slow, sloppy, open-mouth kisses. He nudged her face with his shoulder, and when she looked up at him she was smiling. Her eyes were still wet, but…she didn’t look upset. She didn’t kiss him like she was upset, and then his mind blanked as she rocked again. Lifted herself up just to sink back down, a little harder that time.

“It doesn’t hurt, dummy,” she breathed against his lips. “You feel perfect. Like…”

She giggled, and his eyebrows rose. She bumped her nose against him.

“You feel like coming home,” she whispered, and he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

“God, and you say I’m the sap,” he chuckled. Her giggle was music in his ears, and he hummed as his arms tightened around her. Held her closer. The hand by her waist moved lower, cupping her ass on her next rock and guiding her more firmly onto him. There was a higher-pitched sound she made that time, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. “ _You_ feel perfect. I could stay inside you forever.”

“I..I don’t think it’s supposed to work like…like that,” she laughed, and he chuckled and nipped at her neck. “But we’re definitely doing this…gah…again…”

“As many…” he started, but she pushed against him harder and his words caught in his throat. He squeezed her ass, needing to hold onto _something_. Needing to hold onto her. “As many times as you want.”

They fell into a steady rhythm, words lost to frantic kisses and panting breaths. At some point she had pushed him back, lying him down and bracing her hands on his chest as she began to ride him in earnest. He didn’t care. His hands found her hips and held on, watching with wonder-struck eyes as her head tipped back, as her chest bounced, as she took everything she wanted from him and more. One of his hands started rubbing along her hip, and then slid towards where they were joined, and his hooded eyes darkened as his thumb slipped inside her to rub at her clit. Her moans took on a new timbre, and with a few firm passes she was crying out, collapsing against him as her body shook. His thumb continued to move against her, drawing out her orgasm as her walls clenched around him. His hips pushed up and he paused, his eyes closing as he teetered on the edge of his own release.

She had barely stilled against him when he was rolling them over, guiding a leg over his hip as he thrust into her. He kissed her, briefly, before tucking his face into her neck. She babbled into his ear, an incoherent blend of his name and _yes_ and _more_ , a hand pulling on his hair as he hit her _just there_ and a keening cry left her. It was so easy, too easy, to lose himself in her. In the way she felt around him, the way she clung to him, the way she gasped his name in his ear…he would never tire of this. Of her.

He didn’t last much longer. He was amazed he’d lasted as long as he had. He was collapsing on top of her after only a few more thrusts, and then she was giggling again as she held him close. Her lips ghosted along his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, finally finding his mouth and pulling him in for a slow, lazy kiss. When she finally pulled away, it was only so he could roll off of her and pull her to his side, too blissed out to move much beyond that. He knew they had to clean up. He knew he had to dispose of the condom, that the rug needed to be thrown in the wash (Juleka and Rose were going to kill him…), that the hardwood floor was going to get painfully cold beneath their cooling bodies…but none of that really seemed to matter in the moment, with Marinette snuggling against him and peppering tiny, absent kisses on his chest.

“So…” he finally asked, his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat, smiling as she giggled some more. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Furious,” she sighed, drawing nonsense patterns above his heart. “No way you’re off the hook yet.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. She peeked up at him, and he grinned at her. “That means I still have a lot to make up for. I’m thinking we clean up, then I get to work on that. I think you said something about _worshipping you?_ ”

“…Luka,” she snorted, hiding her face against his chest as she laughed. “I was…you can’t…”

“Oh, I think I can,” he said, chuckling. “I have five years’ worth of fantasies stored up, Marinette. Worshipping is only the tip of the iceberg.”

There was a sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him, a contented smile on her face, and he couldn’t help but wonder how _he had put it there_.

“Don’t know if I can move just yet,” she said, settling back beside him after she’d given him another slow kiss. “Jelly.”

“That just means I have to carry you,” he chuckled, squeezing her tight. She groaned as he sat up, flopping back against the ground as he dealt with the condom. She groaned again when he poked her side. “Mari. C’mon. The bed’s gonna be more comfortable.”

“That’s what you said in the hallway, and look where we ended up,” she whined as he stood, and he laughed as he popped into the kitchen to throw the condom away. When he came back, she was standing and stretching, her arms raised high above her head. She squealed when he stepped up behind her, his arms wrapping around her and his face ducking against her shoulder. A hand slid under her shirt, up her stomach, and cupped her breast. His thumb flicked against her nipple, and she shivered.

“You know, on the subject of worshipping…you’re still over-dressed,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder. His teeth caught on the straps of her bra and cami, and she laughed as he tugged on them. “I’ve been admiring your breasts for a long time now, Marinette. You completely deprived me of the opportunity to familiarize myself with them.”

“D…dork,” she laughed. She collapsed against him with a groan, and he wasn’t sure if it was because her legs couldn’t support her or because he was turning her on again. Both options seemed a compliment to an ego he hadn’t realized he’d had, but he was _really_ loving how responsive she was to him… “Luka…”

“I told you I still have a lot to make up for,” he said. His other hand slipped lower, his middle finger stretching to skirt along her lower lips, still slick from their previous activities. “You said you had another condom?”

“M-maybe,” she stammered, gasping when his finger slipped inside her.

“Jules won’t be back until Sunday,” he reminded her. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and he smiled against her skin when her hand found his hair again. “Got any weekend plans, My-My-Marinette?”

“…killing you is quickly becoming my priority,” she groaned, but she squealed when he moved back, ducking behind her to sweep her up in a bridal carry. Her arms found his neck, a breathless laugh escaping her as she grinned at him.

“Good,” he said, dipping his head to kiss her as he made his way to the bathroom. “I have a few _petite morts_ planned for you, too.”

“…I take it back,” she laughed as he shouldered open the bathroom door. “God, you’re horrible. Nope. I can’t do this. Your jokes are too terrible. You –”

“Too bad,” he said before cutting her off with a kiss. From the way she pulled him closer, he didn’t think she was taking anything back. Not really. “You’re stuck with me. Bad jokes and all. So I’m gonna ask you again. Got any weekend plans, Mari, or do I have permission to spend the rest of the weekend _worshipping you?_ ”

“…only if I can worship you back,” she said, and he chuckled as he sat her down on the counter. Her shirt was discarded a moment later. Her bra was gone a moment after that. He lowered his head to her bare chest, sighing as his ear rested over her heart. It was steadier than it had been earlier, but it still sped up a little when he dropped a kiss to her skin.

“I think I’d like that,” he said, stepping between her legs as she pulled him closer. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

– V –

The rest of the night was spent in a haze of lazy kisses and gentle caresses, slow lovemaking as he familiarized himself with every inch of her body. They drifted in and out of consciousness, catching short naps until one would wake and then ultimately wake the other with more teasing touches. When they finally collapsed, sated and exhausted and still drunk on the other, the world beyond his curtains was starting to lighten with the sun.

They fell asleep on their stomachs, smiling stupid smiles at each other with her arm stretched across his back and his hand settled on the curve of her ass. He couldn’t stop touching her, but she seemed to be having the same problem, so he supposed it was all right.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he woke up again, but he knew all too well _what_ had woken him. For the first time in five years, the familiar tingling in his palm was a welcome sensation. He closed his hand around his pillow, his thumb reaching in to brush against his palm. He could feel Marinette by his hip, but she wasn’t lying beside him anymore. He missed her warmth already.

The tingling persisted, and he popped an eye open to peek at his palm. She wasn’t even writing anything important, or really at all. He had to smile at the scrawling display of flowers and vines, absent-minded doodles stretching across his skin in the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen. He glanced down to his hip, and his breath caught in his throat.

She sat with her back to him, her knees to her chest and the sheet spilling over her lap. He could just see her profile, the warm smile pulling at her lips as she doodled on her hand with steady, confident strokes. He wondered how long she had been up, as she was dressed in her camisole and underwear. He could feel her toes wiggling by his leg, her feet tapping along to a song playing quietly on the radio. He thought it was Jagged’s latest single, but he wasn’t really focusing that hard on it. Behind her, he could see bright sunshine streaming in through his window, and he wondered just how late was it.

He was so distracted by her he almost didn’t notice the smell of something burning.

_Almost._

It was a bit harder to ignore when the smoke alarm went off.

“Shit!” Marinette hissed, dropping her marker and scrambling to her feet. She fumbled with the alarm above his bed, pressing the button a few times unsuccessfully before he put a hand on her leg. She looked down at him, eyes wide and panicked, and he nodded towards the smoke rising from beyond his bed.

“Might help if you put the fire out first,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and gestured towards the smoke. He kissed her calf before darting towards the bathroom. He returned with a glass of water he dumped into the smoking pan by his bed, and Marinette pressed the button again. Now that the fire was out, the alarm stayed off. Marinette pushed out an exasperated sigh and dropped back to the bed. He laughed as he scooped her up, hauling her into his lap and kissing her shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

“…I told you I was burning your gloves,” she huffed, and he blinked at her. She cupped the back of his head and pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him. “Ivan came by while you were sleeping. Had Claire and Juleka’s bass.”

“Ok…and while that explains why you’re dressed again – which we really need to correct, because I’m thinking clothes aren’t necessary this weekend at all – it doesn’t explain the fire,” he said. His fingers hooked on the hem of her shirt, tugging slightly, and she laughed as she let him pull it off of her. His hands came up to cup her breasts, and he sighed as he dropped another kiss to her shoulder. “Much better.”

“I told you, dummy,” she laughed. “I was burning your gloves. You left them at the warehouse, and Ivan stashed them in Claire’s case. He might have mentioned they were there when he saw…”

Luka raised an eyebrow at her, amused by the pink dusting her cheeks. She coughed.

“I had pants on,” she huffed, snuggling into him. One of his hands was still massaging her breast, but the other had begun tracing lazy patterns down her stomach. “But he wasn’t expecting to find me here. Or maybe he was. I don’t care. But he told me where to find your gloves, and while you were sleeping I burned them”

“…you know I have a few pairs, right?” he laughed. She pushed him back, and his breath left him a rush as he flopped against the mattress. She hummed as she crawled on top of him, her hips settling over his own as she relaxed against him.

“Found those, too,” she said. “Burned ‘em all.”

“Marinette!” he laughed, but she just smiled as she scooted up and kissed him.

“Don’t care,” she said. “I told you, Luka. Never again. I want to see your hands at all times. I want to write you notes whenever I want, and I want to know you’re seeing them, and I want you to write me back. I want you to accept that you’re my soulmate and that you’re never getting rid of me. Not now.”

“I’ve already accepted that,” he said, his hand brushing against her cheek. He pulled her back in for another kiss, taking his time with it. They had plenty of time, anyway. “As long as you want this, Mari. As long as you want me.”

“Forever, then,” she said, and he laughed as he pulled her back in. He could have gone on kissing her the rest of the day, and would have gladly, too – if not for the sudden banging against the front door. He groaned when she pulled back, blinking at him in confusion, until…

“Goddammit, Couffaine, open this damn door in the name of the law!” Officer Roger Raincomprix’s voice came, still loud and commanding even through the door and the rooms that separated them. Marinette snorted and ducked her face against his chest, smothering her giggles. “You better not be dead in there, son! What set the alarm off?! You know burning’s against…”

Officer Raincomprix continued to scream on the other side of the door, and Luka laughed as he held Marinette closer.

“Ok,” he said, shaking his head. “Pants. Now. Both of us.”

“…both of us? He’s calling for _you_ ,” Marinette snickered. Luka pinched her ass, playfully slapping it when she yelped and scrambled away from him. She stuck her tongue out at him as he tossed her shirt her way.

…it had landed on the open marker. He hoped she didn’t notice the black ink staining he shirt. He didn’t really care about the marks on his sheets.

“ _Both of us_ , mademoiselle,” he said, grinning as he capped the marker and tossed it towards the amp he still used as a bedside table. He crawled out of the bed and started searching for his pants. “ _You_ started the fire. _You_ don’t want to get rid of me.”

He walked over to her, still smiling like an idiot as he tapped her nose. She was smiling herself as he leaned in, tilting her face up and fully expecting a kiss, he was sure. Instead, he winked at her and pecked her nose, saying, “ _You’re_ paying the fine.”

In the other room, the banging continued.

“DAMN IT, COUFFAINE!”


End file.
